


Little Things

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reconciliation, Romance, season 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 03:17:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8561515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Set during season 10, somewhere after Founder's Mutation.  Could the thing that keeps them apart bring them back together?





	

She had been showing up at the house more and more since they started working together again.  Sometimes her SUV just appeared out of nowhere in the early morning mist to offer him a ride.  Sometimes she rolled in with the twilight, still in her Agent Scully armor, bearing pizza or take-out like it was still the year 2000 and they weren’t different people.  

 

They’d spent Saturday morning on the phone together.  She had an appointment with a former patient at Our Lady of Sorrows, but first, she wanted to run through the autopsy results of their latest case with him and try to squelch his Leprechaun theory by convincing him their vic had died of an everyday, run-of-the-mill heart attack.  He argued with her more to amuse himself and because he liked the idea of his voice accompanying her on her drive over the blue-tooth speaker system.  

 

Eventually, she cut him off to take another call and he went into his office to study the autopsy results she’d emailed him.  It didn’t take very long for him to get distracted and soon, instead of compiling the articles he’d collected on Leprechaun violence, he found himself daydreaming of Saturday’s he never got to have.

 

He closed his laptop and took the baby picture of William out of his desk drawer.  It helped his fantasies to look at the picture of the baby he never really knew and morph him into a child or a teenager or a toddler, depending on where his mind went on any given day.  Today, he pictured a family picnic and William was five.  They were at a park.  The sky was blue.  Scully rubbed sunscreen on their son’s scrunched, pale face before she let them run off to the swings, William’s favorite.  Will always wanted to go higher, higher, higher, making Scully nervous, but Mulder vowed he wouldn’t let him get hurt.

 

“Mulder?” Scully asked, and he was slow to realize he was no longer in the park, but in his office, and the Scully calling his name was standing behind him and not watching father and son at the swings from a distance.

 

Quickly, Mulder opened the top drawer and swept the photograph inside, shutting it just swiftly before turning in his chair.  His heart rate doubled from the surprise, but he tried to look as calm as possible.

 

“Wasn’t expecting you,” he said.  “Thought you were headed to the hospital.”

 

“It got canceled,” she answered, her eyes sweeping over him suspiciously.  “Rather, rescheduled.  I thought I would stop by.”

 

He nodded and watched her eyes bounce around the room.  She hadn’t been inside the office since she lived there.  He always shut the door when he heard her car.  The bedroom door, however, was always open.  Still, she'd stayed in safe zones like the front room and the kitchen.  

 

The space was less cluttered than she would have remembered it.  He’d taken most of the papers down, but there was still a fair amount pinned to the areas of soft tissue in the walls.  Her hands went to her hips as she turned in a half circle.  His gaze drifted down to the attractive curve of her ass, more prominent in the tight cut of her navy blue pencil skirt.  The matching blazer she wore pulled up a bit with the lift of her shoulders and revealed a sliver of her white silk blouse.

 

Her heels tapped the wood floor as she paced in front of the mostly bare walls.  She stopped once and thumbed the curled edge of a newspaper cut-out that Mulder knew by location was an article on lucid dreaming.  That whole section of the wall, if she looked close enough, was about sleep disorders.

 

“Did you want to discuss the autopsy results?” Mulder asked, drawing her attention away from the walls.

 

“Not really,” she murmured, turning towards him and giving a shake of her head.  She moved closer and he had the irresistible urge to bring her into his lap as soon as she was close enough to touch.

 

His chair squeaked slightly as he leaned towards her and cupped her hip with one hand.  He swiveled a little as he pulled her in and she very smoothly came down to sit across his legs as he circled his arms about her waist.  He leaned back to look at her and the chair tipped under his weight to a comfortable angle.  She let her arm come around his neck and very lightly, her hands folded over her each other and came to rest on his shoulder.

 

With just a small push and lift of his foot, the chair swayed back and forth.  One hand crept under her blazer and moved up the silky straight line of her back.  Her lashes lowered a bit, dimming the intensity of her stare, and her hand slipped easily across the back of his shoulder to the back of his neck.  Her fingers traveled up into his hair and her nails scratched lightly at his scalp.  He closed his eyes in appreciation and sighed.

 

For a moment, he was back in the park, fast forwarding through the day until William was asleep and he and Scully were alone, sitting close together in the porch swing outside the house, listening to the quiet chirp of summer crickets and the creak and squeak of the old swing as they rocked.

 

Mulder straightened and the chair tipped upright with him.  Eyes still closed, he bent his neck to hide his face against Scully’s shoulder.  She changed hands in his hair, holding the back of his neck with one and cupping the back of his head with the other.  He tightened his arms and pulled her closer to his chest.  The hand on his neck fell away and he heard the slide of his desk drawer as it opened.

 

The room went quiet, save for the sound of his breathing against her shoulder.  Her missing hand came back to his neck and her cheek slid velvety soft against his temple.  The corner of her mouth brushed the tip of his ear as she tilted her head.

 

“I lied to you when I said I’ve put it all behind me,” he mumbled.

 

“I know,” she answered.

 

“I have dreams about him.  Constantly.  Even when I’m awake.  About us.”

 

She nodded and turned her head slightly to press her lips to the hollow of his cheek.  “You don’t need to hide him from me,” she whispered.

 

“Neither do you.”

 

The sharp rise and fall of her chest against his told her he'd struck a chord.  He felt muscles tighten against his legs and the hand at her back. She made a move to pull away and he tightened his arms.

 

“Let me up,” she said.

 

“I don't want to.”

 

“Mulder.”

 

He slackened his arms and let his hand fall gently away from under her blazer. He sat back again and opened his eyes. She braced her hands on his shoulders but didn't retreat from his lap.

 

“You're free,” he said.

 

“I know.”

 

“What do you want, Scully?”

 

“I can't have what I want.”

 

“Would you settle for second best?”

 

She brushed the backs of her fingers over his cheek and he took a deep breath.

 

“You used to say his name in your sleep,” he said, and she tilted her head in question.  “Not always, but suddenly, and there would be tears in the corners of your eyes.  When I tried to hold you, you would push me away.”

 

She blinked and stuttered.  “I don’t...I don’t remember that.”

 

“I would come down here and look at his picture and wonder what you were dreaming.”

 

“Is that why you started sleeping downstairs?”

 

“Yes.”  He exhaled a deep breath, letting the weight of a confession three years in the making leave his body.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”   
  
Mulder just looked at her and chuckled.  He leaned back and turned the chair in a half circle, hands on her thigh and back to keep her from falling off his lap.  He rubbed the side of her leg to soothe the troubled look on her face.

 

“I have a favorite fantasy,” he said, laying his head back to look at the ceiling and not at her.  “One I return to the most.  Do you want me to tell you?”

 

“Tell me,” she whispered.

 

“Teaching him how to play baseball in the back yard.  He’s about seven, maybe eight.  Already knows how to catch, but we’ve got to work on hitting.  He’s frustrated because he misses every swing, but I tell him I taught his mom how to hit, he’ll get it too.”

 

“I knew how to hit long before I met you, Mulder.”

 

“He doesn’t know that.  And in my vision of things, you back me up anyway.  I let you show him how it’s done and he gets his first hit.  He’s so excited he just drops the bat and runs like he’s supposed to, but he heads the wrong way to third and we don’t even have any bases.  We just laugh.  It’s a perfect day.”

 

“It sounds like one.”

 

He brought his head back up and moved his hand to her hip to give it a light squeeze.  She rubbed the collar of his sweater between her fingers.  

 

“Where does your mind go when you think of the perfect day?” he asked.

 

Her eyes turned a metallic shade of crystal blue as they watered with tears she blinked away and did not shed.  Her mouth moved as though she was chewing her words before she spoke.  She licked the side of her upper lip as befitting of her nervous habit and smudged the dark shade of lipstick he would later kiss off her mouth.

 

“It starts with French toast,” she said.

 

“Do I make it or do you?”

 

“You do.  You and William.”  She paused to lick her lip again.  “It might be...Mother’s Day, or maybe it’s just a weekend morning and you want to bring me breakfast in bed, so you let him help.”

 

“How old is he?”

 

“Six.  He’s small.  He stands on a chair next to you and cracks eggs into a bowl.  You have to pick out bits of shell when he’s not looking.”

 

“How do you know all this if you’re in bed?”

 

“I don’t have to be there to know.  When everything's ready, you come upstairs and you let William carry the syrup since it's probably the one thing he can't spill.”

 

“He still managed to get all sticky anyway, didn't he?”

 

“Of course he did. You send him off to wash his hands and kiss me until he comes back.”

 

Mulder leaned forward and the chair creaked as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss on her lips, feeling the gentle curve of her smile against his mouth. She pushed him away after a moment and put her arms loosely around his neck as he leaned them back again.

 

“And then what?” he asked, rubbing her leg from hip to knee.

 

“He's excited because it's the first day of good weather and you told him as soon as we got through winter, you'd take the training wheels off his bike and teach him how to ride.”

 

“If he takes after me, patience isn't his strong suit.”

 

“He's been very eager since Santa brought him a new helmet and elbow and knee pads for Christmas.”

 

Mulder smiled at that.  She'd probably wrap the poor kid in bubble wrap if she could. 

 

“You take him up and down the driveway,” she said, “holding onto the back seat the whole time. He's afraid you'll let go and you promise him you won't let go until he says it's ok. I'm so nervous that he's gonna fall, but I try not to let him see it because I don't want him to be nervous too.  Eventually, he gets the confidence to tell you to let go, but you still hold on and I can tell you're struggling to relinquish your grip.”

 

“I don't want him to fall either.”

 

“I know, but it's a rite of passage and we have to let him do it.  So, you let go, and you run beside him and he pedals hard, but it's only a matter of a few feet before he starts to wobble and you catch him before he tips over.  He wants to go again and again until he finally gets his balance and he makes it down the driveway by himself.”

 

“I'm so proud of him.”

 

Scully smiled this time.  “I know.  You stand beside me and take my hand as we watch him ride up and down. He's absolutely giddy at his accomplishment.”

 

“Would you think me less of a manly man if I cry about it? Just a little.”

 

“That’s assuming I think of you as a manly man to begin with.”

 

He scoffed and clutched his hands to his chest over his heart.  She gave a small snort of amusement.  He let his head fall back and rocked the chair from side to side, closing his eyes to step back into her daydream. 

 

“I see you wiping your cheeks and you try to convince me you just got something in your eye,” she said.  “No, Mulder, I don't think any less of you, it makes me love you more, how much you love him.”

 

He opened his eyes a bit and stared up at her until she slipped off his lap and straightened her clothes.  She stood over him for a few moments and then reached her hand out to him.  He glanced at her outstretched fingers and then put her hand in his.  She pulled him up, dropping his hand to hold on to his hips as he bumped against her.  They stood against each other for some time, looking up and down at one another, until Scully dropped her eyes and began fiddling with the belt loops on his jeans.

 

Silently, she turned and reached back, waiting until he laced his fingers with hers to bring him out of the office.  He trailed her up the stairs, matching her slow, easy pace and watching the sway of her hips.  

 

“We work together, Scully,” he said as they passed through the threshold of their bedroom.  “What will Skinner say?”

 

“Probably the same thing he said last time,” she answered, disengaging their fingers and turning to face him.  “Nothing.”  She slid her hands up the front of his chest to his shoulders.  “I never settled for you, Mulder.  You’re not second to anything.”

 

“But, it’s not the life you wanted.”

 

“No.”  She shook her head a little and rubbed the heels of her palms against his pectorals.  “No, it isn’t.  But, it is the one I chose.  For better or worse, right?”

 

She stepped away from him and pulled her blazer off, but he stopped her from going any further by locking his arms around her waist.  She held on to his biceps and craned her neck back to look up at him.

 

“I’d like a little of the better and a lot less of the worse,” he said.

 

“Then we want the same thing,” she answered, moving her eyes to his lips.

 

He tipped his head and closed the gap between them, but waited until she parted her lips and closed her eyes to kiss her.  She sighed and her body relaxed in his arms.  He held her up with an arm around her waist and the other hand moving up to cradle the back of her head.  She pulled away first, breathless and flushed, and reached for the buttons on her shirt.

 

Mulder kissed her neck as she pushed the slim line of pearl buttons free.  Her head rested against his shoulder and rolled as he moved his mouth down her throat and chest as more and  more of her skin was revealed.  When all the buttons were opened, she pulled the blouse free of her skirt and let it fall back off her arms.  She shivered and he straightened to wrap his arms around her.

 

“I forgot how cold it gets in here,” she said.

 

“I can go turn the heat up,” he said, rubbing her back.

 

“I’ll let you keep me warm for now.”

 

He kept her in his arms while she finished undressing, bringing the warmth of his hands to her skin and kissing every spot he could reach from the back of ear to her shoulder to the top curve of her breast to the inside of her arm.  When at last, she stepped out of her shoes and grew less accessible, he reached behind her and flipped the covers down on the bed so she could slip inside.

 

He undressed quickly, stepping out of his shoes at the same time he pulled his sweater and undershirt off.  He pulled his boxers off with his jeans, leaving the whole pile in a heap on the floor next to her discarded skirt and blouse.  His socks were the last to go and then he was sliding into bed beside her as she lifted the duvet back in invitation.

 

They came together as easily as they ever did, but it had always been surprisingly easy.  Talking was hard, loving was not.  He wanted to rediscover his favorite spots, explore her for new freckles and sweet spots, but she was impatient for him to just come home where he belonged.

 

“You’ve seen it all before,” she whispered, huskily, urging him into the sensual cradle of her thighs.

 

“I’m older now.  My memory’s not so good.”

 

“Does this ring any bells?”  She wrapped her legs around his hips as he slid inside her.

 

“My bells are certainly ringing.”

 

They were both sweaty and exhausted by the time they rolled apart.  Mulder ran a hand through his damp hair and looked over at Scully where she lay with her eyes closed.  He turned onto his side to face her and propped himself up on his elbow.

 

“Did you have breakfast this morning, or did you just grab a cup of coffee on your way to the hospital?”

 

“Just coffee,” she murmured.

 

“I can make you French toast.”

 

She opened her eyes and turned her head towards him.  She was quiet for the next few moments and then she gave a small nod.  “I would like that,” she said.

 

“Good.”  He sat up and stretched against the headboard.  “Stay here, I’ll be back.”

 

She shook her head and pushed herself up, crawling over his legs to reach down and snag his sweater from the pile of clothes.  She slipped it over her head and he gave a disappointed sigh as she pulled her underwear back on.

 

“Where are you going?” he asked, snagging her hand and pulling her back to the bed.

 

“You need someone to crack the eggs.”

 

They stared at each other for a few moments and then Mulder nodded and tipped his head to kiss her cheek.  “Let’s go make breakfast,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

 

The End


End file.
